Retrospect
by Kisses on the Bottom
Summary: Mal and Natara begin to investigate the death of a high-school girl. Nothing is as it seems. Rated T for language and violence.
1. Chapter 1: Back to School

**You are now Erika Warlett. **

You run your fingers through your smoothly-combed hair and brush the dust off your cheerleading outfit. Beside you, _Alex Martinez_, your boyfriend and the Varsity football captain, sits on your queen bed with a plastic cup of beer in his hand.

"You look awesome, babe…" Alex checks you out as you bend over to put your pom-poms in your cheerleading bag. You'll need them for the big Homecoming Game against Centerscore High tonight.

Smiling, you stand back up. "Shouldn't you be getting ready for the game, Al? I'm pretty sure the star QB is supposed to play against the Loser Lizards tonight." You laugh at your own joke.

Alex nods, and then frowns. "Yeah…" he pauses. "But that means I'll have to leave you."

"Oh, Al…" You lean over your four-poster bed and gently kiss his sweet-smelling neck. "I'll see you at the game _and _at the dance later… But you really should leave now. My parents are almost home, and when they see you in my bed, they're gonna _flip._"

Alex smiles.

"All right, baby… I'll see you at the dance…" He kisses you and leaves your house in a flash, heeding your command. You sigh.

You finish packing up your equipment in your cheer bag and tie your hair into a high ponytail, securing it with a polka-dotted cheerleading bow. After locking your house door with a copper key, you walk out into the night a few paces toward Ferrier High, where the big game against Centerscore is about to begin.

Suddenly, a large hand grabs your back and knocks you in a dark alley.

_Omigod! _You think. _What's happening?_

You open your mouth to scream, but the hand slams it shut. You bite your tongue in the impact, and the coppery taste of blood fills your mouth.

"Hkkkkkk…" You try to cough up the blood, but the hand is blocking the opening of your mouth. "Nhhhhhh!" you struggle to scream.

"Shhhhh…" a voice whispers. "Don't be afraid… I'm here to protect you…" The voice is so familiar that it burns inside your ears.

But before you can react, a blade penetrates the skin in your throat.

The last thing you feel is your warm blood spewing down your neck, and the final sound you hear is the weapon clanging on the cold floor.

You are dead.

**You are now Detective Mal Fallon.**

You are woken by the sound of your BlackBerry violently ringing on your nightstand. Glancing around, you don't see Natara in the bed next to you. But a delicious smell wafting in from the other room tells you that she's in the other room, making breakfast and coffee.

Opening the messages in your phone, you see that there's an urgent one from Captain Yeong.

**Be at the station with Natara in fifteen minutes. There's been a murder on Walker Avenue. Kai ID'ed the vic as Erika Warlett, a student at Ferrier High School. **

"Another murder on Walker Avenue…?" You groan, shake your head, and look at digital clock sitting by your phone. It's 7:13. You grab your glasses off the table and slip them on your face just in time to see Katelyn, your six year-old daughter, angrily march into your bedroom.

"Daddy, guess what?" she frowns.

You jerk upward. "What's wrong, Katie?" you ask as you check for more messages. You look down and realize you're still in your white collared shirt and tan slacks from working late yesterday night, wrapping up the case of George Browns, the serial killer.

"Thomas took my new hairbows and HID THEM!" she stomps her foot. "But he's on his stupid baseball trip, so Mommy can't find them! Now she can't do my hair in braids like she _promised!_" Katie always trusts her gut feeling when she knew something was wrong. You think of yourself always doing the same as a detective.

"Maybe Thomas didn't take them… Er, maybe you lost them…" You try to explain to Katie. You can see a wild look in her green eyes. She has Natara's eyes, you repeat to yourself over and over. They're gorgeous, just like Nat's… Katie has soft blond hair though, taking the color from you in your childhood.

"You know what?" Katie stomps, and then flips her hair with her hand. "You're not being a big help." She marches off down the hall to catch the bus to school outside your San Francisco townhouse.

You get up and run a comb through your mildly-manageable hair and walk to the kitchen, where Natara is sliding Katie's pink polka-dotted lunchbox into her initial-embroidered backpack. "Mmmm…" Nat gives Katie a kiss on her cheek. "I can do your braids another day, sweetie. For now, go catch the bus with Elizabeth and her mom. Look, they're outside!" she points out the window to Katie's best friend and her mother, Karen.

"Okay…" Katie sadly strolls to the door and runs to Elizabeth and Karen. Nat gives the three of them a wave and closes the door as the schoolbus approaches the cul-de-sac and picks the students of Hollypine Elementary School up.

"Hey, Nat." You greet your wife with a soft kiss as you see her make her way to the kitchen.

"Good morning, sleepy." She laughs and pours you a mug of coffee. You sigh.

"Make that to-go. Captain just sent me a text message to be at the precinct in fifteen minutes. Somebody was murdered at Walker Avenue."

Nat looks at you. "Damn…the fourth murder this month…no wonder everyone is moving away from Walker. It's awful over there. But I'd be eager to solve the case and put the cold-blooded killer behind bars."

You shrug and pop a mint into your mouth. "You're right. Something over there doesn't seem right. I expect Captain's going to make us search for clues over there." You shudder.

"What's up, Mal? Something about you is…_panicky _today. You're usually eager to investigate dangerous places. So why are you nervous now?" Natara wonders as she clears up the plate of Katie's half-eaten waffles so flies don't get all over the kitchen while you're gone.

"I dunno…something about the fact that Captain mentioned the girl was a highschooler. I don't have very good memories of high school…" You sigh.

Nat smiles. "It's _high school, _Mal. It's not supposed to be paradise."

You shrug. "I guess so…" You watch as Nat slips on her coat.

"You ready to kick the killer's butt?" Natara winks.

You smile and nod. "Almost ready…" you say, and then give Natara a large kiss and grab your jacket. "Now I'm ready."

You step out.

**You are now Data Analyst Amy Chen.**

You look into the mirror by your lab desk at work and notice that a strand of hair on your head is out of place. You sigh and think about how different you've become since ten years ago, from nerd to…not. You still work at the lab, that's a plus, but ever since you started buying fashion magazines, you can't help but catch the latest trends and care about the way you look.

"Kai?" You look over at your fiancé and smear vanilla lip-gloss on your lips. "Does my hair look alright?" You try to comb through it with your French-manicured nails, but you don't want to mess it up even more…

Kai nods and looks into his empty cookie box. "Sure, Amy…I'd _love _to buy you champagne later and make out…" he sighs.

You sigh and look at him. "Kai, that's _not _what I asked." From the end of the hallway, you can see your old friends, Mal and Natara Fallon coming up the way. "By the way, shouldn't you be running the fingerprint analysis on the weapon used to kill Erika?"

Kai jolts upward. "Oh, right! I should probably go check on those results…" he rushes to the edge of the crime lab when Mal and Natara walk in.

"Hey, Amy…" Natara hangs up her coat in the crime lab coat hanger.

You give Natara a friendly wave. "Hi, guys. Captain filled you in on the case, right?" you say.

Natara nods. "High schooler, huh?"

You sigh and look at yourself in the mirror again. "Yup… Kai's getting the fingerprint results for the razorblade that the killer murdered Erika with… Can you _believe _the killer was stupid enough to leave the weapon at the crime scene?" You pop a piece of gum into your mouth and chew.

Natara shakes her head. "I don't know, Amy. Most killers won't be stupid enough to leave their weapons at the scene of the crime… I've just got a gut feeling that something here isn't right…" She stops herself. "Oh gosh… I sound like Mal, don't I?"

You laugh.

Mal smiles. "It must be all these years of being married to me…"

Natara sighs and looks over at Kai, who is picking at a wrapper on a granola bar. "So, do you have the results?"

Kai nods. "Yup," he walks over to you. "And our killer is Nicolette Reeves. Amy, baby, can you search her through our files?"

You nod and sit down in front of your computer. You can see your reflection in the screen and sigh. _Another trip to the hair salon this week won't be a hassle. This will be my last trip this week, _you promise yourself. The screen pops up, and your fingers type at a blazing speed. You stumble across Nicolette's blank file.

"She lives at 1039 Collier Lane," you tell Mal and Natara. "Kai and I are about to go back down to the crime scene to do further investigations on Erika's body. Do you mind going to Nicolette's and putting her in cuffs?"

Mal nods. "Sure…we'll be back soon…"

Natara still has a puzzled expression glued to her face. "I guess not…" she says. "And although I hate to admit it, something just doesn't feel right here…"

Mal and Natara walk out of the crime lab.

Kai walks up to you and places his arm around your hip. You let out a small groan that only you can hear. Earlier, you thought you were so in love with Kai but now, it seems like a faint memory. _I love him, I love him, I love him…_ you try to drill that thought into your brain. It seems to work. You smile. "Let's go, Kai," you both step out of the crime lab and back to Captain to report that you're leaving to investigate.

And you remember.

**You are now Amy Chen, age fifteen.**

You walk through the halls of Chamber High School in your flowered blouse, Levi's, and brown loafers. Strolling past, you can see two of your best friends chatting by the water fountain- Sandy Lee and Janette Lawson. You wonder if they're talking about your new jeans or saying bad things behind your back like they used to do. You trust that they've stopped gossiping bad things behind your back.

Shrugging, you wander into the lunchroom, open your paper bag full of deviled eggs and salad, and sit down next to Eliza West, your study partner. "Hey, Liz…" you greet her.

She lifts her head up from a good book and smiles. "Hey, Amy. What are you reading this week?"

You shrug. "I don't know. I don't think I'm going to read this week…I have other things to worry about…" you look over at the table where the popular kids sit and see Sandy and Janette sitting down with Barbara, a new girl from their cheerleading team. You groan.

Liz looks at you like you're crazy. "_You have to read a book this week, Amy!_" she gasps. "Reading is an amazing pastime. I'm sure you love it, but you should really read something. I'm reading _Treasure Island," _Liz shows you the cover of her book.

You force a fake smile as you try to minimize your glare at the cheerleader table. "Um, I'm going to go get some relish…" you look down at your salad and sigh. You hate relish, but you walk up to the condiments table anyway and stop at the popular group to talk to Sandy.

"Hey, Sandy, are we still on for our sleepover on Friday?" you wonder.

Sandy flashes a white, toothy grin at you and flips her silky-smooth, wavy blond hair with her hand. "Of _course_, Ames…you're bringing the snacks and nail polish, right?" She gives you a little wave.

You nod excitedly. "Yup…"

Barbara looks up at you. "Hi, you must be Amy… I'm _Barbara deStrisse_…" she makes her name sound so beautiful. You nod.

"Yep, I'm Amy Chen. Are you coming to Sandy's sleepover this Friday?" You ask.

Barbara nods. "Yep…" she grins. Her smile is whiter than Sandy's. "I'll be there. Bring a sewing needle." She gives you a popular-girl styled wave with her hand and walks off with Sandy and Janette to get metal forks and napkins.

You smile and walk back to your table, where Liz has her long nose buried in the pages of _Treasure Island._ She doesn't notice you sit down and dig into your salad.

You feel so excited, so popular, so happy…

But that small voice inside your head is thinking: _Why the hell does she want me to bring a needle to a sleepover?_

You pay no attention to that voice whatsoever.


	2. Chapter 1 Bonus Scene: Best Enemy

**You are now Thomas Fallon.**

You struggle to open your eyes, but when you finally manage to, you stare at the wide room around you. Your head hurts worse than it ever has before...you feel a scorching pain in your left arm...your head spins...

"Ah. He's up." You hear a voice.

Peeking through your eyelashes, you see a tall Hispanic man towering above you. He has a neatly-trimmed jet-black hair and a piercing stare that seems to bear through your skull.

"Dios mío ... te ves igual que él ..." he mutters in Spanish.

You wonder what this man is trying to say, why you're with him...why he's talking in Spanish...why your arm hurts...

"You look JUST like him..." the man repeats, this time in English.

The back of your throat is bone-dry. But you manage to cough out: "Wh-who are you?"

The man smiles, a slow sly one. "An old friend of your father's. I do hope he's mentioned me once or twice, has he?"

You shiver. "Where's my baseball team?" You don't answer his question.

The man once again looks at you with his icy glare. "They're around, somewhere. First tell me about yourself..." he thinks for a minute. "...Thomas?"

Gulp. "That's me."

He nods. "Son of Mal and Natara Fallon, no? You have a little sister, too. Doesn't it feel GREAT to have a sibling that's alive?"

You freeze.

"Well." The man looks like he wants to kill you. But he seems to hold himself back. "My name is Carlito Flores. Please tell me that your father or mother has mentioned me?"

You shake your head, scared out of your mind.

Carlito scowls and clenches his fists. "So they've never mentioned the Flores cartel?"

You struggle to sit up. "What's a cartel...?"

Carlito paces in a circle around you, soothing his own temper. "Son of a bitch..." He groans.

His glare turns into pure rage. You whimper quietly.

"...so the lady cop never told you that she killed my brother in cold blood?"

Stomach churning, you feel your face turn icy-cold.


	3. Chapter 2: Faded Memories

**You are now Kelsey deStrisse. **

You wander into the library to find your study partner, Kyle Gwaltney, so you can study for your Accelerated Math II exam tomorrow. Placing your floral lunch bag on the wooden table, you shift in your Chaco sandals, turning around to see if Kyle's already in the library.

You notice a blond guy; about six feet tall, with a spiffy haircut and strong cologne wander your way. "Oh, hey, Kelsey. Let's start studying…I really can't do badly on this." He sets his book down onto the table and grabs a pencil from his book bag.

"No problem," you tuck a strand of your cocoa-colored hair behind your ear and sit down, taking in his delicious aroma. "So, should we start with the binomial theorem or factoring polynomials first?" You open your lunch sack and take out a ham-and-cheese finger sandwich that Barbie made for you.

Kyle shrugs. "Let's start with…binomial theorem. That'll be a cinch, right? I _really, really _need to ace math this year…my mom will let me try out for the football team if I do. Aren't you a cheerleader?"

You nod and reach inside your lunch bag, retrieve a bottle of water, and close it with a snap. Suddenly, the thought of Erika Warlett, one of your best friends, comes to your brain. You sigh and rub your forehead vigorously. You haven't seen her since yesterday afternoon, when you had a small argument over the phone before the homecoming game that Centerscore won.

_The game that she didn't ever show up to._

**You are now Special Agent Natara Fallon.**

You count the apartment numbers at the Oliver Apartment Complex and approach #1039. Beside you, Mal shuffles through his pockets and pulls out a squished stick of mint gum. He pops it in his mouth. Your icy glare meets his eyes.

"Mal. Don't tell me you didn't brush your teeth this morning." You try not to sound too grossed out.

"I was in a hurry!" Mal pleads.

You sigh and knock on the door. A heavily tanned, pole-thin girl walks out with a can of store-brand orange soda in her tiny hand.

"Who...who are you?" she asks, in a dazed state. She points at Mal. "Uncle…Uncle Kevin? You said you wouldn't visit anymore…you swore it!" She begins to slap Mal with her trembling hands and screams.

"Lady, please!" Mal pulls Nicolette off of him. "What the hell is going on?"

You whisper: "She's obviously drunk or high, Mal. But we're not here to bust her for the drugs. The murder, remember?"

You eye Nicolette, who is gasping for breath and trembling. The can of soda falls from her hands to the redwine-colored carpet in her apartment.

"Nicolette Reeves, I'm Natara Fallon with the FBI. Last night, Erika Warlett was murdered in an alley by Walker Avenue. The fingerprints on her weapon have been traced and you're our match. Right now, the evidence isn't looking too good for you. Come down to the station with us and answer some questions. You have the right to remain silent." You seem to get that information through to Nicolette's head. She shudders and turns very pale.

"Oh my God…Eri? Eri was murdered? No..no! I never wanted it to turn out this way! I…gahhhh!" She falls to the floor. Mal catches her just in time.

"Whoa now…" you watch and gasp as Nicolette slowly gets up…she doesn't look too good. "Just come with us to the station."

You hand the handcuffs to Mal and watch as he slaps them on Nicolette's wrists. She almost falls to the floor…you can notice tears spilling out of her eyes. There's a wild, but pained gleam in her eye—you recognize it from somewhere. You just can't remember where you last saw it…

Shrugging to yourself, you help Mal escort Nicolette into the squad car, where she looks as if she's going to pass out. You try to remember where you've seen that painful look before…what it resembled…who wore it…

As you sit down in the squad car and shut the door, you catch a glimpse of a tall man with a nice suit on. He has tanned skin and a briefcase in one arm, with a pink polka-dotted raincoat that a child would wear in the other. He looks at the watch on his wrist and then at the red door of Marcus's, a drug store that you and Mal often visit to pick up cold medicine for Katie and Thomas during the winter, when they come home from school with runny noses.

A girl, looking to be about 7 years old, walks out of Marcus's carrying a yellow balloon. She wears pink polka-dotted rain boots that match the coat in the man's arm. He takes her hand and walks down the busy sidewalk, catching a glimpse of the sky, which is beginning to turn grey. You get a good glance at his face and your mind begins to whirl.

_He looks so familiar…_you say to yourself as Mal begins to drive the car. Black hair, tan skin, tall…_where have you seen him before?_ You shrug and look ahead at the dashboard and see a hectic street ahead of you.

Mal places one hand on your lap and pats it gently. "Well done, partner." He says in a flirty tone.

You smile. "Why thank you, Mal. You're dashing."

"You know," Mal says and looks at you for one moment. He drops his voice to a low tone that only you can hear. "I'd kiss you right now, but we'd get into an auto accident."

You laugh softly. "I thought we were gonna separate work from love, remember?" You playfully remind him, even though you're enjoying every second of his flirty attitude. "Besides, we've got Nicolette in the backseat."

Mal shrugs. "Well, she's only about half-conscious, and I don't remember us discussing work and love…" He smiles.

You sigh, grinning, and sit back in your chair. Suddenly the thought of the mysterious man comes to your brain again. You skim your memories and try to remember his name…his lips look familiar…perhaps you've kissed them before?

Your stomach gives a great lurch. Oscar Santos. It could only be _him. And…is that his daughter?_

"Er…on second thought, Mal…" Your stomach churns as you gulp out the words and remember Oscar. "I really _could _use a kiss right now…"

Before you know it, Mal's lips are gently touching yours as the car comes to a stop in front of a red light. "Mmmm…" you smile, and all your memories about _him _melt away from your mind. You pull away quickly and sigh in relief.

And you remember.

**You are now Natara, age 16. **

You awkwardly walk through the halls of high school and peer into Mr. Jacobson's classroom. Your wavy, dark-coffee colored hair falls a bit past your shoulders as you take a sideways glance at Mr. Jacobson, who is drawing figures on the blackboard with a smooth piece of chalk.

"Umm…hi," You manage to squeak out of your throat as you slowly walk into the classroom. You smooth out your black miniskirt and peach-colored blouse and shiver slightly. Mr. Jacobson's room is always so cold.

He turns around and flashes you a white, toothy smile. "Natara!" he places his chalk down. "You're back at school! Your mother told me you had the flu. Are you feeling fine?" he gets closer to you, and you catch a whiff of his amazing-smelling cologne.

"Yep…what did I miss yesterday?" You nod and feel your hoop earrings moving to the beat of your quickly-swaying head. The smell puts you into a small trance, as your bat your long eyelashes ever-so-slightly.

Mr. Jacobson walks over to his desk and hands you a literature packet. "Oh, we analyzed _The Little Prince _and answered questions in essay format from this packet. Today, we're going to see how shapes affect our thoughts and inspiration towards writing. There's a quiz this Friday on poem analysis," he grins and points to the chalkboard, where there are assignments written on the board. He then hands you the literature packet.

"Thank you," you smile a straight, white grin at Mr. Jacobson, your heart pounding. Only twenty-three years old, you consider him to be the cutest person you've ever seen in your life. As your straight smile hits his eye, you're relieved that your father paid for a full set of braces for the fixing of your teeth.

"Of course, Natara. Anytime!" Mr. Jacobson motions for you to leave the classroom. "Now, you're going to be late for music class if you don't hurry. See you in class today!"

You sigh and walk out of the classroom in your clear jelly shoes. You catch a far glimpse of Stella Carrington and Kora Waters, two of your very good friends. You don't bother catching up to them, though…instead, you gracefully walk to orchestra class and take out your violin, where Kora is tuning next to you.

"Hi, Nat!" she grins.

"Hey," you smile and play a quick G-major scale. "What's up?"

Kora shrugs. "Nothing much…do you want to sleep over Friday? Stella, Lindsey, Isa, and Paige are coming over. We've _all _got a surprise for you! It's a…Natara Special! Just to say 'Happy Sixteenth', you know?"

You nod. "Sure…but I have Book Club on Friday…maybe we can have it after?"

Kora almost laughs at the word "Book Club." She then restrains and has a grin pursed on her lips. "Sure. That'll work. Be at Isa's at 8. Bring a sewing needle!"

You nod and place your bow to your violin's string and begin to practice "Prelude and Gavotte" by Arcangelo Corelli. Your A-string is a bit flat, so you tune and begin to play again. Most of your thoughts are focused on the music, but a tiny bit of your brain thinks: _Wait…a sewing needle? Are we going to learn to sew blankets like Mom does for baby Ananya?_ Your mind then drifts to your baby cousin, not on the sleepover at Isa's on Friday.

But you still ponder about what Kora told you. "A needle…?" you whisper to yourself as Maestro Patterson raises his baton to begin orchestra class. He leads the cellos into beginning Prelude and Gavotte.

You don't think about the needle all day.

**You are now Robert Willard, Coach of the San Francisco Greyhounds Baseball team playing in Austin, Texas.**

You shuffle in your seat carefully as you eyeball the wall phone. _Little Thomas hasn't shown up in eight hours… I've gotta make the phone call now. _You reach into your suitcase and pull out your blue three-ring binder and pull out your contacts sheet.

Malachi and Natara Fallon. 555-839-9201.

You don't feel well. The ham-and-cheese sub you ate for lunch rises in your throat as you dial the three fives, the eight, and the three. You sigh and swallow the awful taste in your mouth down as you finish dialing the number.

You've got several cops out investigating Thomas's disappearance. Your baseball team nervously waits in the living room of the hotel suite you're staying in. But still, that doesn't seem like enough support.

"Hello?" a familiar voice comes on the other line. "This is Natara Fallon…who am I speaking with?"

"Robert Willard…" your voice is hoarse. "Thomas's coach."

"Oh, yes! Coach! How'd the team do today?" she asks in a hurried voice. You know she's at work, and she's busy. But you've just _got _to tell her…

"Er, fine… But I have to inform you, Ms. Fallon, that Thomas disappeared around noon. We last saw him at Villa Rica, the baseball stadium. We've got cops searching his disappearance right now."

There is a bitter pause from the other end.

"Wh…_what?" _Natara's panicked voice is the last thing you hear before you pass out of nervousness.


	4. Chapter 2 Bonus Scene: Gone

**You are now Natara Fallon.**

You arrive at the precinct with Mal and a handcuffed Nicolette Reeves. Captain isn't there right when you arrive, so you walk up to Detective Gordon Findling, who is reviewing policework at Officer Joe Bartaugh's desk. You know he's on a case about some serial killer who goes up to models and brutally rips off their long, gorgeous hair right off their heads. Something gory like that.

"Hi, Gordon," you say and give him a friendly smile. He returns a brisk wave with his hand and a quick smile. "If you see Captain around here, will you tell her that we've got Nicolette ready for interrogation?" you ask. "Since she's in bad condition, we're going to go ahead and interrogate her now."

Gordon nods and pulls out a manila folder. "Ah, Barbara deStrisse," he says and looks at you. "Of course, Detective Fallon, I'd be happy to." He motions to the file he is holding. "Mrs. deStrisse was last night's victim of Covergirl, the serial killer who I'm trying to solve a case about."

You nod. "That sounds awful." Suddenly, your phone vibrates in your pocket. _I'm getting a call, _you think quickly. "Excuse me, Gordon." You say politely and walk to a clear space in the precinct, pulling out your cell phone and placing it to your ear.

"Hello?" you briskly answer the call, making your way to the interrogation room, where Mal is waiting with Nicolette. "This is Natara Fallon…who am I speaking with?"

The coach of Thomas's baseball team answers. You wonder how the team is doing in Austin and if they won or lost the first tournament they played yesterday. "Robert Willard…" he speaks. "Thomas's coach."

"Oh, yes! Coach!" you place your hand on the Interrogation Room's door handle. "How'd the team do today?" You secretly wish you could end the call so you could go question Nicolette Reeves as to Erika Warlett's murder.

"Er, fine…" Coach sounds nervous. Maybe the team lost. "But I have to inform you, Ms. Fallon, that Thomas disappeared around noon. We last saw him at Villa Rica, the baseball stadium. We've got cops searching his disappearance right now." Coach finishes that painful sentence.

The phone almost slides out of your hand. You feel your blood turn freezing-cold in your veins as shock washes over your body.

"Wh…_what?"_ You manage to squeak out without fainting.

There's no answer from the other end. You just hear a thud and a staticky noise from your phone. "C-coach?" Your heart pounds out of your chest, it seems. But you contain yourself and charge inside the Interrogation Room, where Mal is awkwardly sitting with a drug-crashed Nicolette.

"Natara, you're _finally…_" Mal begins.

"Shut up, Mal." You cut his sentence short. He glances at you with a puzzled expression on his face. You've never really snapped like that at him, so you realize what you've done was…_unfamiliar._ "I-I'm sorry. Coach just called. Thomas is missing."

Mal still looks puzzled. "Missing what?" he questions.

You can feel your eyes well up with tears. "He disappeared, Mal. He's _gone. _He's been…kidnapped."Those awful words leave your lips in a hushed whisper. Mal's skin turns from a healthy peach color to a pale white.

"What? When?" he starts, but his voice fails to speak the words he is trying to say. You can tell he is just as nervous as you…

You shrug and swallow hard… "I...I don't know, Mal…Coach Willard just called me…told me the news…"

Mal stands up. He still looks pale-white and nervous as hell, but he manages to say: "We're going to find him."

Your head spins as you whisper under your breath… "_My baby, oh God…please, please let him be alright!" _

But you desperately try to shake the worry off, and the detective instincts begin to kick in and warm up your icy-cold blood. "I know. We've…we've _got _to find him. I need to go tell Captain Yeong. Stay here with Nicolette."

Mal nods sadly. "All right. Get a replacement detective here to interrogate Nicolette or keep her in custody. We're going to Texas."

You steady yourself as you nod and walk out of the doorway, wiping tears of worry off of your cheeks as you make your way into the precinct and past the long corridor to Captain Yeong's office.


	5. Chapter 3: A New Perspective

**You are now Barbara deStrisse. 23 hours ago.**

You stride into your apartment with your large, Gucci shopping bag and deluxe Covergirl makeup purchased from Knox Mall, the fashion capital of San Francisco. Walking into the bathroom, you open a container of lip balm and stick one of your fingers in, smearing it on your lips for a luscious shine.

You walk back out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, where you see a picture of your daughter and son. Kelsey is sixteen with long, cocoa-colored hair and green eyes…you care about her more than anything in this world…and Walker is fourteen and is tall, with pale skin and brown hair, a spitten image of your deceased husband, Joseph…

You shake the memories of Joseph out of your head and go to your drawer, where you pull out a cigarette and an old photo: there's you, Sandy Lee, Janette Lawson, Diane Philips, and another girl. She's relatively tall with soft brown, almond-shaped eyes and long jet-black hair flowing down her back. You notice something distinctive about her right ear. Her ears are triple-pierced, but the last 2 piercings are very sloppy and appear to have been penetrated by a _sewing needle._ You shrug, forgetting the girls name but trying to remember.

Anna? Amelia? Amy? Annie? Allie?

Your eyes then drift to another photo of your other beautiful daughter, Erika Warlett, who is a cheerleader at Ferrier High School, just like you used to be a cheerleader for them. But back then, it was called Chamber High, until a family, Mollie and Samuel Ferrier, donated one million dollars to the school. Then the name was changed.

But you don't think about the school. You think about how you've never told Kelsey or Walker that they have a third sister. You've never even met Erika after you gave birth to her, even though you know she and Kelsey are good friends and on the same cheer team. Her father, the guy you slept with on a cheer/football trip, sent you a photo of her through Facebook.

You hope to meet Erika again one day. You also hope to tell Kelsey and Walker the awful truth. All three go to the same school, for God's sake. How can they not know that they're related in some way?

Stepping away from the photo after thinking until your brain hurts and lighting your cigarette, you step out onto the fire escape to enjoy a nice, long smoke. But someone grabs the burning cigarette out of your hands and violently bears it into your skull!

"_AHHHHHHH!" _you scream out in agony.

Two gloved hands jerk you backwards and slam you into the bar of your fire escape. "_Nhhhhh!" _you feel blood spilling out of your broken head as a pair of lips press up against your neck.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way…but you know _way _too much…" The voice rings inside your brain. It's all too familiar…but you haven't heard it in many, many years…

You don't have another second to ponder about it, though. A razor-sharp blade slices your throat and you feel hot blood pouring all over your body. You think about Kelsey, beautiful Kelsey… who is at a cheerleading school-night sleepover, who would have seen you tomorrow… And Walker, who is away at a lacrosse tournament until tomorrow…You love them…

But the last thing you see is your attacker take a piece of makeup from your bag and leaving it on the railing, and the last thing you hear is the weapon clanging on the floor.

You are dead.

**You are now Detective Ken Greene.**

News of Natara and Mal's son's disappearance spreads like wildfire around the precinct just seconds after the couple left to catch a last-minute flight to Austin, Texas. Right before they left, you saw Natara quickly grabbing her purse. She's always been tan-skinned, but at that moment, you remember her face being very, very pale.

"Natara!" you shouted her name. You saw her whirl around and her tear-stained eyes met yours.

"Ken…it's Thomas…he's _gone…_" She tried to say.

You felt your chest go tight. "I thought he was in Texas!" Your brow furrowed as the news hit your brain.

"_No, he…" _she bursted into another round of tears. You saw Mal approaching her and pulling her hand away.

"Mal? What the hell is going on?" You called after him as he walked to the door.

His face was wearing an expression of pain and worry. "I'll…text you later, ok, Ken?" And they walked away.

Now, you sit at your desk and review files on George Browns, the case that you, Mal, and Detective Gordon Findling closed yesterday. His entire family: Marie, Alec, Izabel, and Connor had helped him hide for years. Now, they're all behind bars. You smile, remembering the moment when you handcuffed them.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear a pair of high heels storming down the hall. Amy opens the door to your office and looks at her fingernails. "Dammit! I chipped them!" she fumes, and then turns to you. "Oh, sorry, Ken. Captain needs you to come to her office."

You nod and stand up. "Thanks, Amy. What for?"

Amy shrugs. "I have no idea," she worriedly looks at her nails and steps inside. "She said it was urgent, though. I think Gordon is being called down there, too." She walks away, her skirt swaying to the rhythm of her legs moving down the hall.

You take a sip of your whipped frappé and get up from your chair, making your way down the hall. Captain Yeong stands in her office, as well as Detective Findling and Detective Rebecca Waters, the graduate trainee.

"Ken, thank goodness. The Fallons' son is missing in Austin, Texas. There's a great chance that he's been kidnapped…so they're taking a flight to Texas in an hour. I need you to take over Mal and Natara's place in the Covergirl case," Captain stumbles over her words; she is saying them so quickly.

You nod, your stomach churning. So _that's _what Natara meant by _gone._ "Covergirl?" you ask.

Gordon nods. "I can fill him in on the case, Captain Yeong."

Captain smiles. "Thank you, Gordon! You're a real helper. Becca, you need to be filled in, too."

Rebecca nods. You try to stifle a smile as you remember a case that Mal and Natara did years and years ago, the Maskmaker case. The Maskmaker, Brian Resler, killed his sister, who was named Rebecca. You hope that this Rebecca Waters won't be as devilish and mean as Rebecca Resler.

Gordon nods. "Of course. Come on, you two."

You try to hold back a groan as you walk with Becca back to the precinct. Who made _Gordon _the boss of everyone? Glancing at Rebecca, you have prior knowledge from Natara that she's about forty-nine years old, but you see that she looks _good._ She has wavy, strawberry blond hair and a model's face. So, she looks about thirty.

Gordon walks down the hall. "Two victims have been found connected to a suspect, who we are calling Covergirl. Both of the victims had a piece of Covergirl makeup right by the crime scene. Also, the same type of blade's been used to kill them. The weapons were also found by their bodies."

You soak the info into your head. "Were there any other similarities between the dead bodies?"

Gordon nods. "Actually, both of the victims had blond hair and blue eyes. I don't know if that's merely a coincidence or something deeper. I'm doing further investigations. However, we have our prime suspect in the Interrogation Room with Detective Bartaugh right now. Her name's Nicolette Reeves, and her fingerprints matched the weapon's fingerprints. Can you both go interrogate her?"

You and Becca stop walking.

"Sure. See you in a bit," she says and smiles charmingly. You wonder, for a split second, if _maybe_ Rebecca likes Gordon more than a friend. You hope not.

**You are now Cloe Santos.**

You walk down the road holding your father's hand. He holds your rain jacket in one arm.

"Daddy?" you ask.

"Hmmm?" he looks down at you with a smile.

"You know what your name reminds me of?" You grin at Dad, showing him the large gap where your front teeth used to be, before they fell out a few weeks ago. You take happy a skip down the sidewalk as Dad shrugs. "Oscar the Grouch from Sesame Street!" Finishing your thought, you giggle wildly.

Dad laughs. "Oh, so I'm a grouch?"

"Nooooo!" You playfully stomp your foot. "I said, your _name! _Didn't you _listen _to me?"

Dad squeezes your hand as you both cross the busy street. You can see the corners of his lips form a small smile, but then the grin quickly disappears as you both approach a familiar brick townhouse. "Here you go, Cloe. Mommy's house."

You smile as you think of Mommy.

Her name is Katrina, and she's the prettiest woman you've seen in the world. You want to grow up just to be like her…to have her soft green eyes, dark hair, and medium skin…to be a fantastic cook just like her…to walk around gracefully as if you didn't have a care in the world. Just like her.

Daddy doesn't think so. He doesn't think Mommy is beautiful at all. In fact, he despises her so much, but loves her like nothing else. He spits at the sound of her name, but worships her at the same time. It's very hard for you, being his daughter. You don't want to be like your daddy.

_Maybe Mommy has worries too. Maybe she cries herself to sleep at night, like I do. Maybe she…maybe she's _not _perfect. _You stop and think for a minute, and then shake your head. _I don't want to be like her anymore. I want to be like Natara. _

Natara Fallon. Daddy whispers her name in his sleep all the time. He hugs his pillow tightly and strokes it gently. You wonder why he does this…maybe Natara was Daddy's best friend. Maybe he misses her. Maybe…

You stop thinking about Natara when Mommy opens the door. She gasps with delight and leans down to hug you tenderly. "Hi, Cloe!" she excitedly squeals and you hold her tightly, happy that she loves you. Mommy stands up and holds your hand. She looks at Daddy and takes your coat and bag from his arms.

"Thanks, Oscar."

"No problem, Kat. If you need anything, call me."

"Okay. Thanks." Mommy's tone is stale and slightly bitter.

Daddy gives you a tight hug. "See ya next weekend, Cloe."

You nod and give him a kiss on his cheek. "Bye, Daddy…"

He walks away, and you go with Mommy indoors. Her house smells like baked chicken and steamed vegetables, along with chocolate cake for dessert. You always feel welcome here, even if you don't always feel safe.

You watch through Mommy's bedroom window as you see Daddy pull out his cell phone. He clutches it tightly and walks down the driveway.

"Carlito?" he asks, out of breath. You can barely hear what he is saying through the black window screening. "Yeah. I'm ready."

**You are now Kelsey deStrisse. **

Hugging your knees tightly and gently rocking back and forth, you let another round of tears fall onto your lap. You've been crying for an hour already, ever since that young agent and tough, muscular detective showed up at your house to tell you the awful news.

Mom's…_dead._

It's still hard to believe. She was murdered in the apartment last night, while you were at that sleepover and Walker was away for lacrosse. Now he's here, next to you, crying his eyes out and texting his girlfriend, Arielle Portman, telling her the bad news. You both are extremely devastated…_Mommy…your Mommy, dead…?_

An alarm rings above you, telling you the time's 3:15. School's out for the day.

You take out your cell phone and wonder if you should text anyone with the news.

How about Erika? You wish she would just answer her phone. You want to apologize to her, to tell her that you're sorry about what happened the other night, to ask her if you both are still best friends…

Maybe you could text Nicolette Reeves. You've known her since kindergarten. She always tugged your braids and stole your crayons. In middle school, she gossiped about you and tried to slim your chances of making the cheer team by messing up your cheer equipment at tryouts. Now, in high school, you barely ever talk. Nah. You decide not to text her. Something could go wrong.

Your mind leans away from texting people as you lean your head against the couch and wipe off your tears. Glancing at your brother, you notice that Walker looks even paler than he already was to begin with.

Suddenly, the door to your grandma's house, where you've been staying ever since you heard the bad news, opens with a squeaking noise.

"G-Grandma?" you call out, your voice shaky.

But it isn't Grandma.

Kyle Gwaltney strolls into the house. "Kelsey!" he calls. "We…we heard about your mom at school. The teachers told us." He flops down on the couch next to you. Your heart nearly stops. _How did Kyle find me? _You think quickly.

Walker shoots Kyle the evil eye and takes his iPhone to another room to text Arielle from there, leaving you and him alone. You gaze into Kyle's eyes and sigh, seeing that they're full of worry and compassion.

"Hey, study-buddy." You manage to say. "How'd you find me?"

Kyle swallowed hard. "Ryley told me. She thought you'd be staying at your grandma's or the police station. I swung by the police station first, but some cop told me you weren't there. Oh, and if you're wondering why I got here so fast after school ended, it's because I skipped math class."

You freeze. "Kyle, you didn't have to."

"Course I had to. You're my study-buddy. I really, really like you. And I wanted to see how you were doing." He looks worried as hell. You sigh and lean your head on his shoulder. You feel surprised when he wraps his arm around you and holds you close.

"I—I'm fine, I guess. Thanks…" you begin.

Kyle just sits.

"…I just have no idea who the hell would want to kill my mother." You finish.

**You are now Detective Mal Fallon.**

You hold Natara's hand tightly in your seats on the airplane. She's shuffling through phone numbers to call local law enforcement again in Austin, and holding her phone tightly in the other hand, waiting for Coach to call her back or the police, telling her that Thomas is ok…

But they haven't yet.

You can't even begin to grasp the concept that Thomas has been taken. It's too hard to think about, let alone handle with. Natara's been restlessly trying to contact anyone who might have associated with him, but she doesn't know where to begin. Neither do you.

Both of you were extremely lucky to have found a last-minute flight to Texas. Natara arranged for Katie to spend the night with her friend, Sophia, until Thomas was found or things were taken care of.

It's hard. It's very, very hard.

_Thomas._

You remember when he was born… that day, Natara almost died.

Not because of childbirth, though. Chris Thatcher, the killer that Natara and Ken were looking into, fired a shot that barely missed her neck. You remember Natara falling into labor at that time, and shooting Thatcher in the head. You remember Ken was shot, but he still helped drive Natara to the hospital. You remember Dr. Thomas Hughes and how he barely saved your baby. You remember Natara naming your newborn son after Thomas, and you. Thomas Malachi Fallon.

You swallow hard and unlock your phone to see that Ken sent you a text message.

**Hey Mal…Captain told me about Thomas. If there's anything you need, just ask. I'll be here for you, brother.**

Your hands tremble as you try to send a text back to Ken, but you stop midway and lock your phone back up. You'll talk to him later. Right now, you just need to know _where _Thomas is…

"Mal." Natara's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. "Coach just texted me. He said he passed out before and that's why he didn't answer his phone. But he told me that Thomas was last seen when he scored a home run for the team. He went to get some snacks with Alex Venrick and that's the last time he was seen."

You try to analyze this information. "O-okay. Who's Alex Venrick?"

Natara reads further in the text. "Todd Venrick's older brother. Todd's one of Thomas's teammates. According to Coach, Todd was pitching when Thomas wanted to get a snack, so Alex offered to take him. Then Alex came running back a few minutes later and said that he couldn't find Thomas." There are tears streaming down Natara's face, but you don't say anything.

You try to scan for any idea as to why Thomas was taken. "How old is Alex?" you ask, looking for any piece of information that could help you form a theory as to why all of this happened. Something in your gut tells you this wasn't an ordinary kidnapping. It seems…_organized._

"Seventeen." Natara finishes your thought. "He's a junior in high school."

High school.

Those two words form an even bigger lump in your throat.

And you remember.

**You are now Mal Fallon, age 16.**

"Mal! MAL!" You can hear two male voices calling after your name as you walk down the juniors' hall to get your math textbook, which you forgot to bring to class and is now lying in your locker. You recognize the voices as belonging to Jordan Wall and Sam Utburgh, two of your so-called friends. Ever since Jordan stole your girlfriend, Marie Frazier, you two have been tense with each other.

You turn around, however, and acknowledge Sam and Jordan. "Hey, guys."

Sam walks up to you and gives you a small jab in your arm. "Malachi, buddy…Jordan hit the _jackpot._"

Jordan smiles and reaches into his gym bag to pull out a sparkling bottle of vodka.

"How'd you get _that _past Ms. Wilson?" You ask him, eyeing the bottle. You've never had a drink in your life, but that bottle looks promising, for some reason.

"Dunno. That moron didn't even notice." Sam laughs. "So, we're going out to the back field, where there's no PE going on and having a couple drinks with Terri and Melissa, the head cheerleaders."

You pause for a minute. You've never been that popular in school, but this round of drinks could boost up your level. Thinking of the hot cheer captains waiting on the PE field, you ditch the idea of getting your math textbook from your locker and follow Sam and Jordan outside.

"Glad you decided to come with us, bro." Jordan breaks the ice.

"…yeah." Your heart speeds up when you see Terri and Melissa standing near the clearing.

As you approach the girls, Jordan pops the cork off the bottle and hands it to Terri, who takes the first sip and passes it to Melissa. Melissa takes a long gulp, and then hands the vodka to Sam, who downs a sip and gives it to Jordan. After Jordan takes a giant gulp, he hands the vodka to you.

You sigh and nervously wrap your lips around the bottle, feeling more and more anxious with every movement you make to move the vodka into an angle in which you can drink from. You let the oddly-colored fluid hit your tongue and it slides down your throat swiftly. Your taste buds get angry as you realize that the vodka tastes like the rubbing alcohol your dad would use to cure the cuts he got from working too hard at the station.

The station. The _police _station. He could catch you for doing this and arrest you for having vodka on school property.

You quickly yank the bottle from your lips and quickly step away from the group.

"See ya, guys." Your throat feels heavy as the vodka you just drank moves down your body and gives you a tingling feeling. You run away from Sam, Jordan, Terri, and Melissa towards the school building to pick up your math textbook from your locker and head back to math class.

"Wait, Mal!" Jordan calls.

But you're already inside the building.


	6. Chapter 3 Bonus Scene: Shock

**You are now Kelsey deStrisse. 2 hours ago.**

You grab your pom-poms and ready them at your side as Coach Alice calls for you and the rest of the cheerleaders to get in formation. Making sure to stand up straight, you watch for the captain, Kaylee West, who motions for the cheer to begin.

You've always been good in tumbling ever since you started in sixth grade, when you did cheerleading for the first time. Dropping your pom-poms, you run across the track bordering the football field and pull of a swift round-off into a smooth back handspring, ending in a perfect back tuck, all very impressive moves you've been working hard on for the longest time.

Using your loud voice to propel the deep sound of the cheer you've been working on, you smile, wave your pom-poms, and burst out your team pride. After all, it's an honor to be a Ferrier High School cheerleader. Only twenty-five girls make the varsity team, and over fifty try out.

"F-E-R-R-I-E-R! Who's gonna win? WE ARE, WE ARE!" You scream happily and execute a perfect herkie jump, springing into the air with all your might. "GOOOO PANTHERS!"

Coach Alice smiles and claps her hands. "Perfect, girls! You've really improved on this cheer since the beginning of the season. And Kelsey, fantastic job on your round-off back handspring back tuck! It's fabulous! Have you been working on your back layout yet?" She praises you.

"Yep!" you smile and begin to pack up you cheer possessions in your bag. "I'm taking tumbling classes four times a week now."

You stop and make small chitchat with the other cheerleaders and then go outside to take a taxi home. Sitting in silence the whole way, your stomach flops and you feel a little sick, as if something bad was going to happen…but you can't put your finger on it.

The taxi pulls up in front of a fruit market right by your home. You pay the driver and walk home, letting the fall breeze whip at your face and hair…but it feels good and soothes the slight pain you have in your stomach.

Until you walk up to the sector of the apartment complex that you, Mom, and Walker share. Yellow "POLICE LINE – DO NOT CROSS" tape surrounds the balcony, and your heart skips a beat as you drop your cheer bag and run up to the front door, where a tall, muscular black man and a pretty blond woman wait for you.

"Kelsey deStrisse?" the man speaks.

You barely manage to let out a nod.

"I'm Detective Ken Greene," he introduces himself quickly. "And this is my partner…"

"…Detective Rebecca Waters," the woman nods and finishes Ken's sentence. "We have very grave news for you, Ms. deStrisse…"

You can barely breathe. "Wh-what is it…?"

Rebecca frowns. "Your mother, Barbara, was murdered on this apartment's balcony last night. We're doing the best we can to track down the killer."

You swallow hard, not able to soak in this information at all. "I—I…you're joking."

Ken sadly shakes his head no. "Is your mother Barbara Caroline deStrisse?"

You nod, this morning's breakfast rising in your throat. "Yes."

"…and you're Kelsey, her daughter?" he finishes his sentence.

Tears well in your eyes as you manage to nod. "I…I…"

Rebecca sighs. "Sweetie, your mother is dead."

For the next few seconds, you just stand in silence, Ken and Rebecca watching as you try to speak: "But…but…I…she…I…"

Because stuttering is all you're able to do at this moment.

**You are now Eliza West, 15 year-old Amy Chen's study partner. 21 years ago.**

Your stomach does menacing flips as you wait for the results of the 1990-1991 Chamber High School cheerleading tryout results to be posted. You've been trying to find an extracurricular activity for the past few weeks, and deciding to give cheer a try. After all, you were able to do a cartwheel and splits, unlike most of the candidates for the squad.

Coach Bethany Morrison walks out of her office with the list of names of girls that made the team and thumbtacks them onto a bulletin nearby. Tons of girls your age race over to the sheet of paper to see if they made the squad. You patiently wait in line for your turn, your stomach aching more and more after each second that goes by.

_I really, really, really hope I made the team…_ You think to yourself as the line to the squad names shortens. _There are only 15 spots for girls on the Junior Varsity team, and 16 of us tried out this year… _Then your mind drifts to Barbara deStrisse. _She and I tried out for the same spot…I really, really, really have to make the team instead of her, I HAVE to…_

Finally, it's your turn at the list. You scroll down and see the list of names: Jasmine Greer, Paige Thompson, Olivia Braxton, Jane Cherie, Sandy Lee, Janette Lawson, Alexander Smith, Kayla James, Barbara deStrisse, Alice Miller…

_Wait. _You scroll back up and your stomach drops as you see Barbara's name on the paper. It's printed in black ink, obvious as daylight, but still, it seems as though you can barely see it because your eyes are filled with tears.

_Barbara Caroline deStrisse._

_She's way too perfect, _you decide.

_Everything_ good happens to her. Everything.

She's pretty, popular, and likeable. A guy magnet.

Whatever.

Whatever, whatever, whatever.

_I'm not going to deal with her. _Your thoughts are clear and strong. _I'm just…going to…try to be myself. Even if it means I have to go back to books. I won't let Barbara the Cheerleader mess with me. _

You brush the small tears in your eyes off of your face and begin to walk out of the gymnasium, where you catch a glimpse of Barbara eyeing the list, a smile spreading on her face.

"I made it! I made it! Oh, I'm so happy!" she jumps up and down.

You roll your eyes and think nothing of it, but even though you leave your painful thoughts and emotions in the gym where all the tears belong, you can't help but feel a large sliver of hatred towards Barbara deStrisse.


End file.
